


A Caged Wolf

by HeavenlyDisaster



Series: Across the Sunset Sea [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Gendrya - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Together in Their Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:44:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenlyDisaster/pseuds/HeavenlyDisaster
Summary: Arya finds out more about the Starks of the Western Shore.  Gendry learns more about the other Westerners.





	A Caged Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> It is really hard to stick to plot lines when you just want your people together and happy. I mean, yeah, we get drama, but at what cost?
> 
> ***WARNING*** There is a brief mention of rape and domestic abuse ***WARNING***
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It was raining.  No.  Not rain.  Rain was lighter than that.  Water was being dumped on his face.  He had to pry his eyes open.  When he did, he saw Patrek and Jerryk staring down at him.  He groaned.  His head was splitting.  He reached back to massage the sore spot only to pull his hand away and find it red with blood.

“What happened?” Gendry asked.  His voice was thick.

The two men shared a look.  “What do you remember?”

Gendry started to sit up.  Patrek pushed him back down.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, M’lord.”

Gendry let out a sigh and turned his head so that he wasn’t touching his wound to the ground.  He blinked across the thick fauna and saw Dunson tramping through the trees toward them.  His body was tired.  His head hurt.  He just needed to sleep.

“Where are we?” He mumbled groggily.

“We’re stopped by a spring for the moment.  We’ll need to move on soon.  You should drink while we’re here.” Jerryk told him. 

They rolled him over so he could dip his hand into the water and drink.  Gendry didn’t think he’d ever had water that tasted so good.  It was cold and relieving compared to the sticky heat of the forest air.

“We should move on.  They know these woods better than any of us.  I’d be surprised if we make it too much farther as slow as we’re moving.” Dunson reported.

“We’ll go in a minute.  Let him get his head on.” Jerryk replied.

“Where’s Arya?”

Patrek patted his shoulder.  “They took her somewhere else.”

“Where?”

Patrek shook his head.  “Dunno.  Had to be better than where they tried stickin’ us.”

“What?”  He squinted against the sunlight streaming through the trees.  It was bright, but there were black spots in his vision that were ever multiplying.

“We lost Meric on our way out.  Archers took him.”

Gendry groaned and tried again to sit up again.  His vision went splotchy.  He squinted at the three men, but couldn’t focus.  His head was swimming.  He was back in Winterfell then.  In the forges.  No time to sleep or rest.  They needed the dragon glass weapons as soon as possible.  The White Walkers were coming.

She was there again.  He knew she was there.  He always knew.  He could feel her eyes on him always.  When they were children he was always aware of her presence for safety’s sake.  He knew where she was and she knew where he was at all times.  They looked out for each other.  Watched each other’s backs.  This was a different kind of watching.  A dangerous kind of watching.

He didn’t look at her at first.  He went about his work.  He knew what she was after.  Mostly.  That spear.  And maybe he had started on it just as soon as she’d asked, but every time his hands set on the staff, his mind went to her using it.  To her face to face with those pale skinned, blue eyed fuckers.  The ones that were hacked to bits and kept on going.  Then he had to set the weapon down and start on the dragon glass blades meant for the soldiers.  Anyone but her.

When he finally looked up, she was flushed.  He told himself it was from the cold.  Not from anything else.  Arya Stark did not blush.  She was a fearsome little she wolf not some mewling kitten.  But that look in her eye…. The way she was biting her lip….  He’d like to bite that lip for her.  This new Arya Stark was as ravenous as any wolf.  He couldn’t help wondering how many other men had been on the receiving end of that kind of stare from her steel grey eyes.

“What I wouldn’t give to be some well-to-do lady of a castle that I could spend my day standing about.” Gendry told her dryly.

Arya arched her eyebrow at him.  Her mouth twisted up in an amused smirk.  “I’m sure I could find a dress for you.  My sister is a remarkable seamstress.”

Gendry grinned and set the dragon glass blade back in the forge fire before moving around to his workbench.  Arya followed him.  Sauntering after him like the best trained brothel whores.  But she wasn’t a brothel whore.  She was no whore at all.  Though you wouldn’t guess it by the way she moved her hips.

“It’s not finished yet.” He told her.  He was there to work.  Not to fantasize about his long lost childhood friend. 

Arya pursed her lips.  The urge to kiss her was damn near unbearable.  He focused on sharpening the blades that were stacked on his work bench.  Anything to distract himself.  She picked up one of his finished blades and twirled it between her hands.

“You can make a hundred dragon glass blades in a day, but it takes you a week to finish one weapon?” She challenged.

Gendry took a deep breath.  “Some things take precedent, M’lady.  There’s an army coming for us.  Not just one man.”

Arya tested the sharpness of the blade with her finger.  She barely flinched when the edge bit into her flesh, drawing blood.  Gendry reached over and grabbed the blade from her and took her hand in his to inspect the wound.  Her hand was warm even without her gloves on.  _Why isn’t she wearing gloves?_

The world tilted and suddenly he was on the ship again.  In her cabin.  In her bed.  Their bed?  It may as well have been.  He never slept anywhere else.

Arya rested her chin on his chest and combed her fingers gently through his hair while he drew circles on her back with his fingers.  Her eyelids were heavy with satisfaction.  Her lips red and swollen from the ferocity of their kisses.

“When did you stowaway?” She asked.

Gendry leaned his head against her hand.  “Mm.  Oldtown.  Right before you left I suppose.  Spent a week there before you even arrived.”

Arya frowned at him.  “How did you reach Oldtown before me?”

Gendry shifted under her.  “You made about a hundred stops between Storm’s End and Oldtown.  I didn’t make any.  And I left three days after you to boot.”

Arya leaned forward and kissed him easily.  Like she’d done it a hundred times before and would do it a hundred times more.  Gendry slid his hands down her back to grab her rear and give it a squeeze.  She bit his lip in response making Gendry grin.

“How’d you get into the Captain’s Quarters?  The door was locked.”  She asked, pulling back.

Gendry nodded at the port window.  “Window wasn’t locked.”

She frowned at him.  “How’d you manage that?”

Gendry shrugged.  “Pure determination.  I didn’t want any of the Northerners to recognize me before we set sail.”

“Because they’d have told me and I would have sent you back to your castle.”

Gendry gave her a kiss.  “You would have, too.”

“Maybe I would’ve stayed with you then.” She murmured.

Gendry stilled.  “Arya….”

“ _Get him up_!”

It was dark when he opened his eyes.  There was a smell in the air.  Like rotting flesh.  Gendry wrinkled his nose and squinted around in the blackness.  He caught movement on his right and turned his head to follow it.

“What the fuck is that?” He heard Dunson shout.

There was a chirping sort of growl echoing around them.  Gendry realized that they were in a cave somewhere.  Patrek’s arm was around his back, holding him upright.  A light flared up beside them as Jerryk lit a torch.  A huge, black creature rose up before them and screamed.  Gendry saw fangs and feathers both.

Gendry reeled back away from it and searched for a weapon.  Patrek let him go choosing to clutch his axe with both hands instead.  Jerryk lunged at the beast with the torch out.  It reared up and Gendry saw that while the front legs ended in clawed paws, the back legs were taloned like a hawk’s.  Inky black fur covered the catlike face, but they turned to feathers towards the back and two enormous, feathered wings fanned out from its back.

“Gendry?  You up yet?” Patrek called.

“I’m up.  I’m up.  Where’s my hammer?”

Jerryk kicked the hammer’s handle at his feet, never taking his eyes from the feral beast.  Gendry dropped to his knees and grabbed for his hammer staring wide-eyed at the creature.  He held it up and stood behind Jerryk and his torch. 

“Lochla!” A woman shouted behind them.

Gendry turned around and saw a woman walking out of the deeper recesses of the cave toward them.  She frowned at the men and waved her hands.  The beast moved away from Gendry and the Black Swords and over to the woman.  She patted the beast on the head and sent it off again.

She spoke to them in that foreign tongue the warriors had spoken.  She didn’t look like a warrior even with her red face paint.  She was strong there was no doubt, but her hair was pulled from her face in a series of braids before it dropped down her back in a thick, black curtain.  She wore a necklace of bones and black feathers that covered her chest.  Nothing else covered her chest and only a small band of mid length feathers were slung about her waist to hide the rest of her.

The Black Swords stared at her slack jawed as though they’d never seen a woman before.  Or maybe it was because the woman wore so little.  Gendry took a step forward and fought a dizzy spell.  The memory of being hit over the head with something was vague, but it was there.  Along with the splitting headache.

“Hello,” he greeted awkwardly.

The woman looked him up and down.  She scowled and turned back to the blackness of the cave.  Gendry took a step after her, tipping over as the earth tilted like a ship on the sea.  He put his hands out to grab something to keep him upright, but there was nothing to hold onto.  Patrek and Jerryk each grabbed one of his arms and kept him afoot.

“Wait!”

The woman stopped and looked back at him with eyes as black as her feathers.  Gendry dropped the head of his hammer onto the stone and leaned on the handle so Jerryk and Patrek didn’t have to hold him up.

 “Uh….” Gendry had no clue what to say now that he’d gotten her attention.  “My name’s Gendry.  That’s Patrek, Jerryk, and Dunson.  We were passengers on the _Nymeria_.  That sea monster destroyed our ship stranding us here.  Can you help us?”

The woman stared at them all blankly.  She waited until he was finished speaking before she turned around again and headed into the darkness.  Gendry blinked hard against the dizziness in his head.  When he reached back he could feel blood still wet in his hair.  Arya had probably already escaped her captors and made it back to the beach.  That’s where they needed to go.  Back to Arya.

“We need to… find Arya.” Gendry told the Black Swords as if they didn’t already know that.

“You need rest.” Patrek cautioned.

Gendry shook his head.  “I won’t rest until she’s back with me.”

“Bold words from a man only on his feet because he’s using his hammer for a crutch.” Dunson mocked.

The three men laughed despite their dire circumstances.  It fell short when they realized they were no longer alone.  Gendry looked back in the direction the feathered woman and her black beast had gone.  A man stood bare chested before them, but he wore cloth breeches.

“You are from Westeros?” The man said in the common tongue.

“Yes?” Gendry looked at the man more closely, but he looked like no Westerosi he’d ever seen.  Maybe he was from Essos.  He did look a bit like a Dothraki.  Not that the Dothraki spoke the common tongue.

“I am called Ellard Stark.  Descended from Brandon Stark of Winterfell.”

“Stark.  You’re a Stark descendant?” Gendry repeated stupidly.

The man nodded patiently.  “My family reigns in the castle on the cliff.  Built by my grandfather and those that served him a thousand years ago.  It is said to be an exact copy of the home he left in Westeros.”

The black feathered woman appeared at Ellard’s side.  She whispered to him in her foreign tongue casting mistrusting eyes on Gendry and the Black Swords.  Gendry squeezed his eyes shut for a beat, trying to rid his vision of the black splotches.

“You are hurt.” Ellard announced.  “Chasya can see to your….” The man chewed at his lip and Gendry was reminded of Arya.  He mumbled something in his other language before looking back at Gendry with reservation.  “Sorry, I don’t remember the word for….” He gestured to the back of his head.

“Head?” Jerryk said.

Ellard shook his head.

“Injury?” Patrek offered.

Ellard smiled and nodded.  “Yes.  Injury.  Chasya can help.”

He touched the black feathered woman’s elbow and nudged her toward Gendry.  She snatched her arm away and glared at him.  Gendry may not have understood the language, but he knew enough to tell that she was unhappy with the situation as she berated Ellard.

“That’s alright.  I’m fine.” Gendry told them, hoping to ease the discomfort of the situation.

Patrek shook his head.  “No, you’re not.  You’re ready to keel over and die any second, Gendry.”

Ellard frowned first at Chasya, then at Gendry and the Black Swords.  “If you come back to the village, Chasya will feel safer.  As it stands, you outnumber her and she does not trust your black weapons.”

The Black Swords stowed their dragon glass and Dunson took Gendry’s hammer from him.  He wanted to protest, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk and carry it at the same time.  It was taking everything in him to keep his feet.

They followed Ellard and Chasya further into the darkness.  Gendry had to lean heavily on Patrek to keep up.  The cave floor slipped down sharply and Gendry would have lost his already precarious balance if Ellard hadn’t been directly in front of him.  The strange man put a steadying hand on Gendry’s chest and kept it there until the floor evened out again.

Jerryk’s torch lit the new room they had come to showing a dozen or so of those black cat-birds.  He heard the men draw in sharp breaths, but Gendry was focused only on his next step.  Ellard and Chasya didn’t seem to mind the animals.  He took that to mean they likely didn’t pose a threat.  At least, not then. 

The sound of running water made Gendry think of the _Nymeria_ again.  Of Arya.  He wouldn’t believe she was dead.  She was too strong to let some strange forest men best her.  No matter how they outnumbered her.  And if she wasn’t dead, he needed to find her. 

The cave emptied out above a great waterfall.  Gendry was amazed to find it was daylight out.  He wondered how long he had been sleeping with Jerryk and Patrek to carry him through the forest.  Ellard and Chasya led them away from the edge and back down river.

A village opened up to them.  Half on the ground and half in the trees.  A monstrous fire sat at the center.  Naked men dropped kindling onto the tower of burning wood.  The lack of clothes on all of the villagers was startling.  At most, a few wore feathered skirts like Chasya.  None of them wore breeches like Ellard.

A horde of naked children ran screaming toward them.  More swung down on thick ropes or scrambled down rope ladders.  They clutched at Chasya and Ellard and spoke rapidly in their foreign tongue.  Gendry and the Black Swords were completely unnoticed for a few moments.  Chasya and Ellard smiled down at them patiently and even responded.

It was a child with white face paint that noticed them first.  She stared up at him with dark brown eyes somewhat impassively.  Then she said something in that strange language.  Gendry looked at Patrek and Dunson for answers.  They both shrugged. 

“She’s concerned about the blood.” Ellard offered.

Gendry looked over at him.  “Blood?”  He touched his head.  The blood had trickled down to his neck.

Chasya rolled her eyes and cocked her head at a ladder.  Gendry started up, but if keeping his balance on the solid ground had been hard, keeping it on a swaying rope ladder was impossible.  He set his feet back on the ground and put his head in his hands to squelch the dizziness.

In the end, they put him on a small wooden platform Ellard said they used for food and supplies and pulled him up to Chasya’s home.  She was already inside the wooden house when he stumbled in.  She turned to him and pointed at a roll of black furs on the floor.  Ellard hadn’t followed him up.  Only Patrek stayed with him.

Gendry sat down on the furs and started to lean back when Chasya let out a shout.  Patrek and Gendry froze and looked at her.  She held up her two index fingers and crossed them rapidly in front of her.  When they still stared at her blankly, she let out an annoyed groan and came to push Gendry onto his belly.

She walked away muttering in her foreign language something Gendry was sure translated into ‘idiots’ or the like.  Gendry shut his eyes and rested his forehead on a bundle of thick furs.  It had been his head that was hit, but his whole body ached.  By the time he felt Chasya’s fingers prodding the split at the back of his head, Gendry was too exhausted even to whimper.

* * *

 

 Arya woke up to her door being opened.  It was the dead of night.  She grabbed the knife from under her dress.  The one she had filched from the dinner table earlier that night.  She hadn’t made it to the bed.  She had cried until she fell asleep and dreamt of being back at Winterfell with Gendry.

“You’re awake, then?” A woman’s voice whispered.

Arya sat up and looked at her surprise visitor.  It was an old woman with wrinkled skin and grey hair.  She almost reminded Arya of Septa Mordane though there was something kinder in this woman’s eyes.  Arya slid back away from her until she was seated against the wall under the window.

“Who are you?”

The old woman gave a peaceable smile.  “Dyani Stark, though it was my husband, Elert was the one my father crowned King of the Western Shores.  He thought me too fanciful for the honor.”

Arya scrubbed at her cheeks just under her eyes.  “You’d be the queen still.  And the Queen Regent even now.  Why weren’t you at the feast?”

Dyani took a seat at the small table in Arya’s cell.  She couldn’t call it a bedroom while she was locked inside.  Arya kept her knife in her hand just in case this was some trap of the king’s.

“Maybe my son has told you about Ellard.  His eldest son.  Brandon thinks I am to blame for his son’s absence.  For his ‘fanciful’ flight.  All because I had aspirations in my youth of building a fleet of ships and sailing the whole Stark clan to Westeros.  Of seeing snow and the ice walls and the Children of the Forest.  My father would hear none of my plans and instead gave control of the kingdom to Elert.  Loathsome man he was.  I had two words for him the day he was cast to the seas.  You know what they were?”

Arya shook her head.  If it was a trap, the old woman was doing a remarkable job.

“Good riddance.” Dyani laughed then and the years melted away from her face.

“I’ve known many bad kings and queens.” Arya admitted.  “Though, I still believe Joffrey was the worst of them.”

Dyani frowned thoughtfully.  “This Joffrey, he was a brother of yours?  A cousin?”

Arya wrinkled her nose and curled her lip back.  “I was not related to that blonde crybaby.  He was called a Baratheon, but he wasn’t.  He was a Lannister through and through.  A hateful monster.  My only sorrow is that I was not the one to end his miserable life.”

“Are the Starks no longer the Kings of Winter?” Dyani asked in a voice full of an innocence that should not belong to one with as many years as she held.

Arya leaned her head back against the wall.  “No, I don’t suppose you would have heard about the last thousand years of Westerosi history.  A lot has happened.  Many, _many_ wars and battles.  The last of the great wars ended just before we set sail.  You know of the Southern Kingdoms?”

Dyani nodded enthusiastically.  “I know of the Reach and the Stormlands and Dorne.”

Arya couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness.  “There are seven kingdoms in Westeros.  The North, where the Starks are from.  My sister is queen there now.  In the south, there are six kingdoms.  Dorne whose capital is Sunspear.  My first mate is a shipwright from Dorne.  Harrenhal is the seat of the Riverlands.  I was actually held captive there for a while when I was younger before I escaped.  Highgarden is the seat of the Reach.  It’s the richest kingdom in Westeros.  Some sell sword rules there now.  Casterly Rock was the seat of the Rock and I’m not too sure who sits there now that the Lannisters are all, but extinguished.  Tyrion, I suppose though he’s my brother’s hand now.”

“Your brother’s hand?” Dyani interrupted.

Arya looked back up at her.  She’d nearly forgotten she was there.  “Oh, my brother is king of the six kingdoms now.  Tyrion is his advisor.  My father advised King Robert before the wars started.  Before they were both killed.”

“Killed?”

Arya nodded.  “You’re getting ahead of me.  My cousin Robyn Arryn is Lord of the Vale to the east.  And the Stormlands.  Storm’s End is the seat of the Stormlands.”  Arya felt tears stinging her eyes.  “Gendry Baratheon is their Lord Paramount.”  She took a steadying breath.  “Three hundred years ago, Aegon Targaryen came with his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys on their dragons.  Vesenya rode Vhagar, Rhaenys rode Meraxes, and Aegon rode Balerion the Black Dread.  The seven kingdoms didn’t want to be joined together, but you can’t argue with dragons.  Dragons take whatever they want.”

Arya stared at the dark grey stone, but all she could see was the falling fire burning buildings and bodies alike.  She could hear the terrified shrieks of people desperate to survive.  The pitiful moans of those begging to be put out of their misery.  The blistering heat.  The mind numbing panic.  It was all there.  Thoughts and memories she hadn’t touched since Oldtown.  They were all there.  Waiting to swallow her in despair anew.  And she was ready to be swallowed.  She had nothing else left.

“Dragons are real?” Dyani asked in awe.

Arya gritted her teeth.  “Unfortunately.”

“You’ve seen them?  Really?”

“They aren’t so great as what you’ve got in your head.  They’re destroyers.  We were lucky when they went out of the world a hundred years ago.  We just didn’t know it.”

Dyani nodded patiently.  Arya found she didn’t mind the old woman’s presence so much.  For someone who had never been a hundred miles from Westeros, she reminded Arya uncannily of home.  Maybe it was just the stories she was telling.

“Your other eastern friends are being brought to the castle, you know.  The ones from the beach.  They’ll be taken to the dungeons until a verdict has been made on you.” Dyani informed her.

“Verdict?  Am I on trial?”

Dyani nodded.  “All shipwrecks are put on trial.  My father captured three shipwrecks during his rule. Sadly, no ships came while my husband wore the crown.  I would have liked to see the sailors live at least once.”

Arya wrinkled her brow.  “You mean they’ll kill us?  For being wrecked here?”

Dyani nodded again.  “When I was around your age, a ship went down in the bay.  I was a wild thing.  I knew all the ways in and out of the castle and no number of guards were ever enough to keep me in my cage.  I was on the beach when the ship went down.  The men there spoke in the Stark tongue and I was so excited to meet people from the east for the first time.”  Dyani blushed suddenly, like Sansa used to when they were children.  “There was one sailor in particular.  His name was Willem.  A handsome thing with pale skin and blue eyes. My father had already promised me to Elert though I hated him.  My father was insistent that I marry the man he chose and so I had no choice, but I had my own revenge.  I gave my first sex to Willem right here in the dungeons.”

Arya’s brows shot up and a grin crept over her face.  For the mother of her captor, Dyani was an impossible woman to dislike. 

Dyani sobered then.  “Elert was a miserable man.  He didn’t appreciate being made a fool of.  He would hit me whenever he felt unhappy and take his pleasure of my body even when I did not permit.”

Arya’s smile died.  “He raped you?”

Dyani gave a small shrug.  “He claimed me as husbands always claim their brides.  Women are not people to them.  And they are naught more than animals to us.”  She looked at Arya with an assessing gaze.  Less invasive than her son’s.  “Have you had a husband, yet?”

Arya shook her head.  “My sister was married twice.  Her second husband sounds a good deal like your Elert, though.”

“And he sits beside her on the throne.”

“No.  What remained of his body after his hounds had their fill was burned to ash.”  Arya narrowed her eyes at the memory of the man she had never met.  “I still think he got off too easy.”

Dyani laughed again.  “And have you ever been at the mercy of a man, lovely girl?  Do you think to feed them all to hounds and burn the rest?  You must have a number of suitors.  You are the beauty.”

Arya was startled more by the proclamation of her beauty than by the question as to her maidenhead.  Only three people in the world had ever called her beautiful.  Her father first, but Arya had not truly believed him.  Her father had lied more than she had ever known.  Why wouldn’t he have lied about that?  Jon had, too, but she hadn’t really believed him either.  She knew he was only being nice.  Gendry had said it to her right before he’d proposed and Arya _did_ believe him.  Gendry had never been one to give baseless compliments.  Or say things he didn’t truly believe.

“I’ve only ever lain with one man, but it was more like you and your Willem.  A little more than that, though, I suppose.  The Others were coming for us, you see, and we thought to be dead by sunrise.  I had known him since I was very young.  We looked after one another until a Red Witch came and stole him away from me.  When I found him again it was… different.  We were both different.”

Dyani was nodding along with her story.  “You love him.”  She said decidedly.

Hot tears dropped onto her cheeks.  “I do.”

“Chin up.  Nobody has ever sent the wolves off like you.  I’ve never been more certain that one will get a good verdict before you.”  The old woman got to her feet.  “If not….”  She frowned and gave her head a small shake.  “Then my son is an idiot like his father and we’ll not have you dying for that.”

She opened the door and slipped away.  Arya sat against the window with the knife in her hand.  She didn’t think to find any allies here.  Not when everyone had been nothing but hostile and the only ones that were indifferent didn’t speak her language.  Regardless, Dyani was a good friend to have.  The queen regent and direct descendent of Brandon the Shipwright.  One with a passion for Westerosi history.  And one who knew how to get out of the castle without alerting the guards.

Arya had left fourteen men on the beach.  Eleven walked through the gates of faux Winterfell.  Arya wasn’t stupid.  She saw that the men that had been bitten by wolves were gone.  All except Moryn whose injuries had been the least severe. 

Arya had almost forgotten her new appearance when she went to greet them until she saw the way her sailors looked at her.  Spit’s mouth hung open a bit wider and more drool than usual dribbled from his lips.  Even Moryn was not immune to her new dress though the Dornish women often wore as much or even less clothing.

Arya fixed them all with a heavy glare reminding them that just because she’d been made to look like a lady, she was no less lethal.  Their wrists were bound despite the guards outnumbering them two to one.  Not to mention, the Black Swords and her Braavosi had been relieved of their weapons.

“Captain, we thought you dead.”  Moryn told her.  He was hunched over and his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat.  The hike through the forest had obviously done nothing for his injuries.  Arya wondered if her missing men were due to the blades of impatient men or the natural conclusion to their extensive injuries.  She didn’t suppose she would be told which.

The guards tugged at their ropes violently.  The men jerked forward and Moryn winced as he struggled to keep his feet.  Arya watched helplessly as her men were led away from her towards what she knew to be the dungeons.

Arya wanted to argue about their treatment.  She wanted to march right up to the western king and yell at him for their mistreatment.  But she knew that would get her nowhere.  So long as she kept her mouth shut, she was allowed to roam the castle for small portions of the day.  Always with four escorts, but it was more than a typical captive would be allowed.  She knew most of the hallways and tunnels by heart at home, but the faux Winterfell was different in the most unpredictable ways.

She found a manmade cavern beneath the castle where the natural hot springs sat warming the castle at Winterfell, but there were no natural hot springs on the cliff face.  Instead, the pools were filled with stagnant water breading all manner of insects.  Many of which took pleasure in biting and stinging her.  Unlike Winterfell’s hot springs cavern, this cavern had only one entrance and exit and was much smaller than the one at home.

The Godswood was unusual as it boasted several trees with carved faces, but the trees were not Weirwoods.  The greenness of the leaves made the trees look like a mockery of the Old Gods.  Still, Arya prayed.  She prayed that Gendry wasn’t truly dead.  She prayed that there was some way back to Westeros.  That she could deliver what remained of her men safely home.  But she never heard a reply and Arya had never felt so far from home as she did in those moments.

She knew she could escape.  She knew most parts of the castle already and she was constantly learning the rest on the few short ventures she was allowed outside her room.  She had found her way into the armory after a week.  She’d had to pick the lock which was easy, but she’d had to slip her guards _and_ stay out of sight of the sentries while she did it.  To her extreme disappointment, Needle and Cat’s Paw were nowhere to be found along with the nameless duel spear Gendry had made for her.

More than weapons, she had other problems.  Her men were still imprisoned in the castle dungeons.  She was rarely permitted to see them, but she snuck to their cells more frequently than her captors knew.  Moryn was holding strong, but disease festered in prison cells.  The men were given but one meal a day and meal was a kind word for it.  Arya could not leave without them, but any Westerosi stood out on these foreign shores.

Dyani came to her every night begging to hear tales of Westeros.  She returned the favor tenfold.  She taught Arya the language of the Western Shore and told her stories of her own.  Stories of the Western Shore.  Myths, legends, histories.  The Great Serpent was as old as the sea itself.  It claimed the whole of the shore and swam too fast for any ship to escape it.  Men had tried time and again to vanquish the foul beast to no avail.

Escape was never far from Arya’s mind.  But often other worries would crop up.  Where would they go when they left?  How long would they evade their captors once they did?  The knowledge that their captors would not look too favorably upon them if they caught them after their escape did not go unnoticed either.

Time was trickling by and Arya was growing impatient.  If she’d wanted to be trapped in a castle for the rest of her life she’d have married Gendry and presided over Storm’s End with him.  She wanted a ship.  She wanted to kill the serpent.  She wanted to destroy the men that had taken her love away from her. 

At night, she dreamt of home.  Sometimes she was a wolf in the Riverlands and she was reminded of how she once traveled those lands with Gendry and Hot Pie.  Other times she dreamt of her family.  Of Sansa and Bran and Jon, but most often she dreamt of Gendry.

She would dream of them together again in his ramshackle castle.  She would go to him there just as she had just before they set sail only this time she would stay.  She would dream of little kids running around with Gendry’s smile and her eyes.  Black haired babes that had their own wolf pups and swords.  Gendry’s babies.  _Her_ babies.  She always woke up crying after those dreams.  And always aching more fervently for freedom.

“The sailors’ trials will begin at sunup.” The king declared at supper one night.  Arya couldn’t remember how long it had been since her men had been brought through the gates.  She was relieved to see that the matter would be over soon.  If it was trial by combat, she would fight for any one of her men.  She would fight for them all if she must.

“The wolves will feast heartily!”  She heard a warg cry in the foreign tongue.

“None are innocent!” Answered another.

Arya kept her expression neutral.  She didn’t want to let on to the king that she was learning the language.  She decided to bide her time and wait for Dyani for answers.

“The Starks of the Western Shore used to have trials much like the ones of Winterfell.  Our people used to be more welcoming to outsiders.  Those times went with my grandfather.  He thought the foreigners and shipwrecks were signs of danger come to our village.  He decreed that any man that could silence a Stark wolf would earn his head.  Any others… well the wolves would go to bed with full bellies.”

Arya felt the blood drain from her face.  “The trial is just seeing if a hungry dire wolf kills them or not?”

Dyani shrugged.  “That is why you sit in a private room and feast in our hall while your men rot in the dungeon.  You drove the wolves off.”

Arya shook her head.  “That isn’t a trial.  That’s an execution.”

* * *

 

 “Good morning.” Arya greeted in that husky voice she had.

Gendry grinned at her.  He would never tire of waking up to her in his arms.  Never tire of looking at her unblemished face.  Her steel grey eyes.  Her lips rosy from kissing.  Gendry leaned up and kissed those lips again just to make them even rosier.

“I had a terrible dream, you know.” He murmured.

Arya frowned concernedly.  “What happened?”

Gendry pulled her close and kissed her hair.  “We sailed west on a dire wolf ship.  West of Westeros.  After a while we came to this shore, but when we tried to row to the beach a giant sea monster came and crashed the boat.  We made it to the beach, but then these natives came and kidnapped you and killed me.  That’s when I woke up here.”

Arya smiled at him then.  “Stupid bull.  I’d never let anyone take you away from me again.”

Gendry kissed her.  “And I’d never let anyone take you from me.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“I’m yours.”

“You’re mine.”

Arya kissed him nice and slow.  He sighed into her mouth and breathed in the smell of her.  The smell of wind and trees.  He moved his hands down her body and pulled back in shock when he reached her belly.

“What’s this?”

Arya gave him a curious look.  She patted her round belly.  “This is our new Baratheon obviously.  What do you think?  I ate too much of Hot Pie’s bread?”  She laughed, but Gendry felt his heart stopping.

“I’m dreaming.” He said decidedly.  “Or dead.”

Arya stopped laughing.  “What’s wrong?  I thought you wanted kids?”

Gendry shook his head slowly.  “I want…. Arya, I want you.”

Arya rolled her eyes at him.  “You _have_ me.”

But he didn’t.  And as soon as he thought it, she disappeared.  The room and the bed and everything else disappeared with her.  Gendry was left alone in the darkness.  “Arya?”  He called into the emptiness.  “Arya!”  But there was no answer and he knew there wouldn’t be.

Gendry pried his eyes open.  His head felt better.  He pushed the furs away and sat up to look around.  For a moment he thought he was back in Arya’s quarters on the _Nymeria_.  He pushed himself up off the mats on the ground and looked around.  His memory came back to him in bits.  None of which explained where his clothes had gone.

There was a strange bird on the windowsill and no glass in the window.  Gendry stepped closer to inspect the bird out of curiosity when the thing opened its mouth and shrieked in his face.  It was an earsplitting noise.  Nothing like the birds of Westeros.  He backed away and turned just as a woman came through the door.

It took him a minute to recognize her.  And another to remember her name.  “Chasya, right?”

Her eyes dropped down Gendry’s naked body.  She frowned and looked back up at his face.  Gendry grimaced.  Her scant clothing hadn’t escaped his notice, but there was only one woman he wanted to see before him.  She shouldered her way past him and held a hand out for the noisy bird.

“Sorry, er, I was wondering if you knew where my clothes have gone?”

She said something that was decidedly _not_ in the common tongue.  Gendry stood there, naked, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water searching for some way of communicating with the woman.  Gendry groaned and went to the bed to grab the furs to wrap around himself.

Chasya looked over at his improvised clothing and rolled her eyes.  She dumped whatever was in her hand on the windowsill in front of the bird and walked over to him.  She wiped her hands on a small piece of cloth before grabbing his shoulder roughly and turning him around.  Her hands were on the back of his head pressing at the sensitive flesh around his wound.

There was silence between them.  Gendry was glad for the pain in his head then.  At least he had an excuse not to speak.  Chasya cleared her throat behind him.

“Who ees Arya?” She said shyly in a heavy accent.

Gendry turned to look at her, but she grabbed his head and turned him back around.  He coughed and scratched his jaw.  “So you do speak the common tongue, then.”

“I learn.  Ell teach me.  You sleep long days.  Very much you speak the name Arya.  Who ees Arya?” Chasya insisted.

Gendry cleared his throat and fought a flush.  “She’s… I’m not sure what you’d call her actually.  She’s just… the woman I love, I suppose.”

“She ees you wife?”

Gendry shook his head and winced went he felt his hair pull free in Chasya’s hand.  “No. Not my wife.  Just my love.”

Chasya finished her ministrations and let Gendry sit back.  She wiped her hands on her cloth again.  “She ees in Winterfell?”  Chasya looked over at him again.  “Beyond the water?”

Gendry shook his head.  “She’s here.  Or… she was here.  We were separated I think.  I don’t remember very clearly since….” He gestured to his head.

Chasya frowned deeply.  “She go to castle of Ell family she….” Chasya twisted her mouth up and scowled at herself.  “Die?”  She tried to decide if that was the right word, but seemed to give up at her limited vocabulary.

Gendry laughed then.  He shouldn’t have.  He knew he shouldn’t have.  It wasn’t funny really.  She was trying to tell him that if Arya went to the castle she was likely dead.  That was terrible.  If it were true.  But Gendry knew better.  He knew Arya better.  There was no way in all seven hells she was dead.  It just wasn’t possible.

Chasya scowled at him.  “You love Arya.  You cry about her die.”

Gendry smiled at her gently.  “If Arya were really dead I would cry, but Arya isn’t dead.  Death itself couldn’t kill Arya.  That giant sea snake couldn’t kill Arya.  A fire breathing _dragon_ couldn’t kill Arya.  She’s not dead.  She’s _not_.”

By the time he finished speaking he realized he was doing more to convince himself than her.  She didn’t care one way or the other if Arya was alive or dead.  He knew that, but he knew he needed Arya to be alive.  No matter what else.  They couldn’t have gone through all that they went through just to die on this foreign soil. 

“You’re awake!”

Gendry looked up as Patrek came through the door followed by Dunson.  Chasya glared at the boys and left without another word.  Gendry stood up again as Patrek slapped him on his bare shoulder, beaming.

“I thought for sure that was going to be the end of you, you know.” Patrek confessed.

Dunson scoffed.  “I thought you were dead before we even slipped our ropes.  Surprised you made it to the cave let alone this shithole.”

Patrek slapped Dunson over the back of his head.  “You keep being ungrateful and I’ll personally escort you back to the beach and let the wolves and sea monsters fight over you.” Patrek warned.

Dunson growled in response, but said nothing more.  Gendry adjusted the furs around his waist.

“Where’s Jerryk and Meric?”

“Ah, well, you know Jerryk.  He’d never let a pesky thing like conversation get between him and some action.” Patrek joked.

Gendry frowned.  “If any of you’ve been raping anyone I’ll cave your heads in.” He growled.

Patrek threw his hands up in mock surrender.  “Hey, hey!  We’re not raping anyone.  Honest.”

Gendry stared at him suspiciously a beat longer wishing he had Arya’s ability to read a lie as plainly as writing.  He didn’t see any hint of deception.  Besides, if they were lying Chasya certainly would’ve said something.

“And Meric?” Gendry pressed.  “He down with the girls, too?”

Patrek winced and Dunson looked like he was about to break something.  “We didn’t get away from those native bastards completely unscathed.”

“Especially not lugging your useless body around.  And your damn hammer.  Weighs about as much as you do, ya know?” Dunson growled.

“Oh, shut it.  We got out, didn’t we?” Patrek snapped irritably.  “If the captain ever found out we left her boy behind it wouldn’t have mattered whether we escaped the natives or not.  You know she’d’ve skinned us as soon as looked at us.”

Dunson scowled at the floor.  He remembered being reluctant to let the shipmates on to what was between him and Arya.  She was still a lady no matter what she said and they were unwed.  It hardly mattered now that their ship was wrecked and any hope of returning to Westeros was little more than a dream. 

“And, uh, my clothes?” Gendry asked, switching gears.

Patrek looked down at him seeming to take in his state of undress for the first time.  “Ah!  The roof.” He said, pointing at the ceiling.

Gendry followed his finger and squinted.  “Why are they on the roof?”

“They had to dry and the roofs get the most sun.  They’re probably dry by now.”  He gave Dunson a light slap on the arm.  “Go get M’lord’s clothes.”

Dunson scowled between them.  He looked like he wanted to argue, but he only turned out of the house.  A few seconds later Gendry could hear him walking across the roof.

“Chasya said Arya was taken to the castle.” Gendry told Patrek.

He nodded.  “Ellard is from the castle.  He’s been helpful if not always articulate.  Apparently the business on the beach with the wolves was meant to be some sort of trial.  He said we all should’ve been dead before morning. Didn’t believe us when we said the wolves didn’t go near one of the fires.”

Chasya returned with two other girls.  They were all carrying bowls of water.  Chasya poured a cup of water and handed it to Gendry.  He took a tentative sup before chugging the whole cup and holding it out for more.  Chasya filled it again and turned to shoo Patrek from the house.  He noticed his clothing slung over the arm of one of the new women.

Chasya pulled at the furs around his waist and Gendry’s grip on them tightened.  Chasya glared at him and tugged again.  The two other women joined in.  Gendry twisted away from their clawing hands until Chasya let go and stepped back her hands on her hips.

“Bad!” She scolded.

“I can wash myself.” He argued.

Chasya arched an eyebrow and frowned in a way that reminded him painfully of Arya.  “Men bad at….” She gestured at the bathing supplies.

Gendry frowned.  “Are not.”

Chasya and the two other women shared a mirthless look.  Gendry sighed and dropped the furs on the bed.  The women went quickly to their work, forcing Gendry onto a small stool so that he didn’t tower over them.  When they were finished they left him to dress on his own.

The collar of his shirt was stained a reddish brown.  He’d had other shirts on the ship.  He remembered how this one had looked when Arya’d thrown it on one night.  It hung past her knees and covered everything.  It really shouldn’t have been as sexy as he found it.  There was just something about her in his clothes.  She snuck off to the food supplies and came back with two bowls of some sort of stew and a loaf of bread they both agreed didn’t compare to Hot Pie’s.

He gave himself a shake and stepped out of the house.  He was a hundred feet above the ground and there was nothing stopping him from accidentally stepping over the edge.  Gendry stepped back toward the house and sidestepped down the walkway keeping an eye on the edge.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights so much as he was afraid he’d slip.

“Girls got you all cleaned, then?” Patrek said, appearing in front of him.  He patted Gendry on the shoulder.  “Ellard was starting to get jealous with how much time Chasya was spending with you.”

“What do you mean?”

Patrek smiled broadly at him.  “You been out for over a week, you know?  Seems you and your pretty face makes the girls swoon even unconscious.”

Gendry shook away Patrek’s hand when he tried to pinch his face.  Something chattered on the ground and Gendry looked down to see the absolute largest rodent he’d ever seen in his life.  The size of a dog.  He jumped back and let out a yelp almost spilling himself over the edge of the walkway.  Patrek grabbed his arm and pulled him back around laughing.

“It’s alright.  They’re friendly.  Really friendly.  Villagers keep ‘em around since they appease other animals that are less friendly.  It’s the elephant boar you gotta watch out for.”

“What?  Elephant boar?” Gendry repeated.

Patrek looked around and pointed down to a group of men cutting up an enormous pig.  Looking at its face, Gendry understood the name.  It had a trunk like an elephant hanging from its face though it was much shorter than an elephant’s.  Gendry had been all over Westeros by the time he’d stepped on Arya’s ship.  He’d seen dead men walking around.  He’d seen dire wolves with beady red eyes.  He’d seen dragons.  He really shouldn’t be at all stunned by the odd creatures of this new land, but he was.  He wondered if Arya had seen any of them yet.  What had she thought?

“The villagers call them something else.  Don’t remember what.  You remember those big black monsters from the cave?”

Gendry furrowed his brow as he racked his brain.  The beasts with lion faces and bird wings.  He nodded.

“They’re called Rapans.  Ellard says they used to be everywhere a thousand years ago. They could fly for a short time and the villagers had trained them to distract the sea monster, but a ship crashed ashore during a storm and brought the dire wolves with it.  Rapans hunt alone and dire wolves hunt as a pack.  Made it easy for them to be picked off even with their wings.  That’s why the villagers had to flee here.  The Pantari believe that the destruction caused by the sea beast is because the Rapans aren’t there to threaten it anymore.”  Patrek led him down a level and into another wide room.  Almost like a common area in an inn.  “If the Rapan were still on the beaches _Nymeria_ might still be above water.”

Patrek took him to a table with smoked fish and meats stacked high with cooked vegetables separating the stacks.  Patrek took up two large, thick leaves and handed one to Gendry before piling meats and vegetables onto his leaf.  Gendry locked eyes with the woman on the other side of the table.  She looked down at the food then back up at him.  Gendry took it as an invitation to eat.

He really was starving.  Patrek led him over to where Dunson was sitting staring out across the jungle.  A few minutes later Jerryk plopped down beside them with a full plate of food.   He grinned at Gendry and took a big bite of meat.

“Finally awake, Lord Baratheon?” Jerryk grinned.

“Finally decided to pull your head out of whatever pair of tits they were buried in and join us, Jerryk?” Patrek snapped.

Jerryk kept his easy grin.  “You’re jealous Fain picked me over you.”

Patrek rolled his eyes in response and went back to eating.

“We need to get to the castle.” Gendry said decisively.

The Black Swords went quiet around him. 

“No foreigner goes to the castle and comes out alive.” Jerryk told him.  “They all say it.  Castle Death.  Even Ellard says there’s no hope of returning from the castle if we choose to go.”

“And no one’ll go with us to help.” Dunson added.

“Say we do go to the castle and rescue whoever is there if any of us are there at all, where do we go then?  We can’t come back here.  We’d bring the wolves.  And we don’t have a ship to go back home anymore.  We’re fucked if we do and fucked if we don’t.”

Gendry shook his head.  “Arya’s in that castle.  I’m not leaving her there.”

Jerryk shook his head.  “There’s loads of pretty girls here.  If Arya went to that castle she’s good as dead.  The village is –”

Gendry grabbed Jerryk by the collar and yanked him forward, forgetting about his food.  “Arya is _not_ dead.  I’m going to get her back.  To hell with all your pretty girls.  I only care about one.”

“Okay!” Jerryk threw his hands up.  “Alright. I’m sorry, M’lord.”

Gendry let Jerryk go and stood up.  “Where’s this Ellard?  I need to speak with him.”

“Ground.” Jerryk answered, numbly.

Gendry nodded and went off in search of a ladder to the ground.  He had to fight his dizziness as he descended one of the rope ladders.  By the time he reached the ground, he had to sit and shut his eyes before being able to walk again. 

“I heard you were looking for me.”

Gendry looked up at the man from the cave.  Ellard.  Ellard Stark.  Gendry got to his feet quickly and regretted it as the blood drained from his head.  He rocked back on his feet and Ellard reached out to steady him.

“The way your head looked, I would hate to see what that hammer of yours can do in your hands.”  Ellard said with a small smile.

“My hammer?” Gendry repeated moronically.

Ellard tipped his head at him.  “That’s what your men say hit you.  Say you are better with it.  And that you know how to make more weapons.”

“I do.  But there are more important things.  The woman that was with us was taken –”

“The captain.  I know.  I’m sorry for your loss.” Ellard told him solemnly.

Gendry shook his head hard.  “No, she’s not _dead_.  She’s… a prisoner.  I need to know how to get to the castle so I can get her out.”

Ellard reached out and put a heavy hand on Gendry’s shoulder.  “My father is not a kind man.  He is not a wise man.  He is not even a good man.  What he is, is afraid.  Afraid of any sailors that might threaten his claim.  That includes your captain.  Jerryk said her name was Arya.  Women are rare, but my father has no use for her.  He will have fed her and all the rest of her surviving men to the wolves.”

“You don’t know her.  She’s survived worse things than your father.  She’s not dead.” Gendry insisted.

“Are you the smith?”

Gendry whirled around and squinted at the new arrival.  He was a tall man with green eyes.  He looked more Westerosi than any native he had seen so far.  He also spoke the common tongue.  Two armed guards flanked him and he was dressed more flamboyantly than the rest.  He was also much older than Ellard.  Somewhere around Davos’ age if he had to guess.

“Who the hell are you?” The words left Gendry’s mouth before he could remember himself.  He was the stranger here not them.  Luckily, the older man seemed amused by Gendry’s demand.

“My name is Orin Botley.  I’m Chief of War for the Pantari.”

 _Botley_?  “Are you from Westeros?”

“My father was, but my mother was from here.”  Orin started away and nodded at Gendry to follow.  He hesitated a second longer.  He only wanted to get to Arya.  It would seem that it wouldn’t happen without the Pantari’s cooperation.

“My father shipwrecked here some forty years ago.  The way he tells the story, a beautiful goddess of a woman was waiting for him.  She spoke the common tongue about as well as a four year old, but she was eager to learn.

“She hid him and a few of his friends when the wolves came later that night.  They were captured nonetheless.  Vixen that she was, she slipped into his cell in the castle dungeon and gave him her maidenhead on what was to be the eve of his execution.  Instead, my father was smuggled away from the castle as a favor to the beloved princess.

“About a year later, the same guard that freed him, came to find him here with the Pantari.  He dropped me in his arms and told him my mother had been killed for her actions.  My father raised me here with the Pantari.”  Orin stopped walking and Gendry found himself at the top of a cliff overlooking the Pantari’s valley.  It truly was beautiful.  He wanted Arya to see it, too.

“Around five years ago, Chasya brought Ellard to us here.  The heir to the castle now presumed dead.  Ellard had become privy to a plot by his father to execute him before he could get the throne.  The new king is just as cruel as his father, you see.  He will kill more innocent people just as he killed your captain and the rest of your crew.  But you can help us.”

Gendry started.  “What?  Help you?  How?  Why would I?”

Orin smiled patiently.  “The Starks have stared at the sea for too long.  It has driven them mad.  A war between the Pantari and Wolves has been building for a thousand years.  We just needed someone who could arm us with their sort of weapons.”  Orin looked down at Ellard who was talking to Jerryk and Patrek a hundred feet below.  “Your friends say you are the best smith in Westeros.”  Orin looked Gendry in the eye.  “Will you arm us?”

Gendry turned his head.  From where they were perched, he could just barely make out the silhouette of the castle on the cliffs.  He didn’t care what the natives said.  He didn’t care what Jerryk or Dunson or even Patrek said.  Arya was alive and she was in that castle.

But if he wanted to get her back, it’d be best to do it with an army.


End file.
